A Thief's Heart
by NiffAreForever
Summary: For Jeff Sterling, London is somewhere to start anew, but when he falls in with the wrong crowd and finds that there are dangers and duplicities around every corner, his illusion of a happy ending seems to be shattered – and can the love he longs for even exist in real life? A sort of Oliver Twist!Niff AU set on the streets of Victorian London
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, here is the first chapter of my new story, ****_A Thief's Heart_****, which I really hope that you will all enjoy :) It's set in Victorian London, and starts off with a similar basis to ****_Oliver Twist_**** by Charles Dickens, however, it will become different to this after a few chapters - also, there are some rather obvious parallels between the characters in a way, which I'm sure you'll see :) I really hope that you enjoy it! :)**

**Thank you for the support and response to ****_On The Home Front_****! You guys are all awesome, and I hope that you will support this story too :) I'm kinda hoping that this story will be slightly different to my others and won't quite be so happy and sunshiney, but I doubt that it'll turn out like that!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and I do not own Oliver Twist.**

* * *

The workhouse building was made of cold, grey and dull brick, having been battered by the equally cold and grey winds which whipped around the countryside and turned the landscape into a monotonous sea of dampened grass and sodden mud. What should had been the beautiful English countryside had been transformed into a thoroughly unappealing dismal mire which was avoided by everyone except those who had no choice but to pass through it.

Inside the workhouse, the conditions felt much the same as outside. The windows were loose, and rattled when the wind blew, filling the rooms with swirling grey mist and a constant dampness. The workrooms were dank, and in the summer would become swelteringly hot with so many bodies in such close quarters.

In one such room sat several boys, none of them older than seventeen, picking away at the stitches on several pieces of old cloth which needed repairing. They were all working under the supervision of five older men, who had all trained as tailors, and had now taken them on as unpaid apprentices. The boys had been at this work for nearly three hours now, and it would be another hour until they had a break for lunch. If you could call it lunch, that is, for it was little more than a few spoonfuls of watered down gruel slopped into a metal bowl and a hunk of dried bread; on Sundays, if they were lucky, they might get the off-cuts of a sausage each.

One of the boys was a tall blonde, thin but muscular in some way, though fortunately, he had been saved from the task of the stone breaking when it had come down to the overseer to choose which boy would move on to which adult job. His blonde hair, which he tried to keep at a manageable length, still fell in his eyes every time he looked down, and where it was getting too long at the nape of his neck, it had curled at the ends.

It was the constant movement he had to make to flick his fringe out of his eyes that caught the attention of one of the overseers.

"Sterling! Yes, you, boy! Stop doing that and get on with what you're doing!"

The boy in question kept his head down and made a show of vigorously removing one stitch from the cloth he had in his hands, without saying a word. There was no point giving the overseer a polite acknowledgement because that could be seen as answering back, and it might earn him a nasty punishment.

He'd seen enough boys returning from punishments to know that they should be avoided.

Finally, the tolling bell signalled that it was time for lunch, and all of the boys set down their work, to be resumed later, and got up silently. They lined up in the same order as always and filed out of the door at the same time as the rest of the doors along the corridors opened, and there was suddenly the sound of hundreds of feet echoing on the cast iron stairs.

It was the same routine everyday, and it was likely to be the same routine for a very long time for a certain blonde. That was, of course, until one rather chance opportunity would change the course of his life forever.

* * *

It was well past nightfall before the boys were allowed to go to bed that night, and it would well before dawn that they would be awoken for breakfast the next morning.

The dormitory rooms were filled with around one hundred boys each, with the rows of beds packed almost completely together down each wall, only a small crooked bedside table separating each one. The beds were furnished with one rather grimy sheet and an equally grimy blanket, but to have anything to cover themselves with at night was a luxury which could not be afforded by all. At one end was a high up window, perhaps two feet by two feet in size, with blackened glass which should have been cleaned every once in a while, but looked as though it had quite possibly never seen a wiping cloth in its lifetime.

"You done, Jeff?" a tall brunette asked the boy who was currently washing his face and hands in the pot of water at the end of his bed.

The tall blonde from earlier nodded once and moved out of the other boy's way; they had to share, several boys to one pail of water, and not a drop could be wasted.

The other boy was a tailor's apprentice as well, several years older than Jeff, and on his way to finishing his apprenticeship within a few months. He was Jeff's older brother figure in some sort of way, though the two were not related, and he'd helped the blonde through the times when life got far too tough.

"Kurt?" Jeff spoke up suddenly, addressing the other boy.

"Yes, Jeff?"

"Do you ever wonder where your parents are now?"

Kurt sighed heavily.

"We've talked about this before," he said, "Now, come on, just go to bed."

"But don't you ever think about it?" the blonde boy insisted, lying down on his bed and tucking his blanket up to his chin, looking almost like a small child again. "In your head, don't you make up stories about who they might be?"

"Sometimes," Kurt admitted, "Not so much anymore though." He got up from the water bucket and sat down on his own bed, looking across at the younger boy.

"Why not?"

Kurt smiled sadly.

"There comes a point," he said, "Where you realise that it's futile and imagining what might have been will get you nowhere. Now, go to sleep, Jeffrey."

But Jeff seemed to be in no mood for sleeping.

"Then what did you used to imagine?" he continued, "Did you imagine that they lived in a big house, with a hundred servants? And they served three course meals every night, and you could eat as much as you wanted to?"

"Sometimes," he said, "Other times, they lived in a cottage on a farm and tended to the sheep. Now, that's enough for tonight."

There was silence as Kurt pulled his own blankets over himself and he wondered whether Jeff had fallen asleep already.

"Kurt?"

No, he hadn't.

"Yes, Jeff?"

"Your parents, when you imagined them, did they love each other?"

Kurt frowned.

"Yes," he replied, "Always. Why?"

"Nothing," Jeff said, and he rolled over and faced the other way, effectively ending their conversation.

The older boy shook his head and fell asleep almost immediately, having been tired out by the long day.

But in the other bed, Jeff was still awake, his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around himself as he let a small tear trickle a path down his cheek and drip softly onto the sheet below him.

His parents had died, he knew that, but at least Kurt had the comfort that he had never known his mother and father, so he could imagine whatever he wanted about them. Jeff's mother had died almost as soon he was born, living long enough to say that his father was also dead, that she had no relatives, and that his name was Jeffrey. The workhouse had given him his surname.

His only way of remembering his mother was the simple silver locket that she'd left to him when she'd died. In some act of compassion, one kindly woman had saved it for him until he was old enough to understand what it was, and had one day handed it over to him. He'd worn it every day since, but the locket itself was empty, engraved only with a pattern that Jeff could not properly recognise, it sometimes seemed to reminiscent of what Kurt said was a coat of arms, but other days, it looked like little more than a few random swirls; the dirt it had accumulated did not help.

Jeff just wished that there was that possibility that his life could have been different or that he could at least pretend that there was, but he knew the fate of his parents and he couldn't seem to shake that fact from his mind.

He wanted Kurt's parents to love each other in the other boy's mind at least because Jeff couldn't tell whether his parents had loved each other or not, and he always believed that everyone should find love in their lifetime. Except being stuck in a workhouse for what seemed like the rest of forever gave Jeff almost no hope of finding love himself, and that seemed to put him in a perpetual state of longing and anguish.

It was alright for Kurt, he wanted to become a tailor, and at least, he had that opportunity now, and with his skills, he was likely to become a successful one too. But Jeff was adequate at his apprenticeship at best, and he wanted nothing more than to run as far away from his life as possible.

In his head, he always his imagined his future as one in which he would find someone who loved him as much as he loved them, and would care for him and look after him. They'd live in a little house in the countryside somewhere, and they might have a family, but they might not, and that wouldn't matter because they would have each other and that's all that they would need.

But in the workhouse, in the middle of nowhere, all of Jeff's dreams seemed like distant flashes of light on the horizon; he could see them but he couldn't ever grasp them. He was desperate to escape the confines of his current life and to run free to wherever he pleased, taking control of his future and letting his own free will guide him instead of being dictated by what the overseers did and wanted.

Suddenly, the dormitory was plunged into darkness as someone slammed the door, extinguishing all of the candles simultaneously it seemed. The darkness brought the first feeling of sleepiness over the blonde and his eyelids fell wearily. He gave up his hoping; failing to see even those lights on the horizon now in the darkness, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Jeff, what would you like most in the world?" Kurt asked suddenly the next morning.

Jeff looked up in surprise at the question from where he was folding his blankets atop his sheets in the few minutes before the bell would ring for breakfast.

"Is this in return for my questioning last night?" he said with a smile.

Kurt shook his head.

"I'm just curious," he replied, "So, what would you like most?"

It took Jeff barely a second before he was voicing his answer.

"To get out of here," he said, adding in his head that he wanted to be loved too, but he'd never said that aloud to Kurt, or anyone in particular; even if Kurt had been the one to introduce him to the idea of love in the first place through the stories he always told.

"Where would you go?" Kurt asked, and Jeff's mind span with the questions, for while he was accustomed to asking Kurt things, the other boy rarely asked him anything, instead, usually merely opting for encouraging whatever ideas he had himself.

"I don't know," Jeff shrugged, "Anywhere but here, London, perhaps, if the fancy took me; London sounds fascinating."

Kurt suddenly glanced around himself furtively, before taking a step closer and pressing something thin and small into the palm of Jeff's hand, closing the blonde boy's fingers around it securely.

"Don't react," the older boy whispered softly, "This is a piece of wire, I stole it from the workshop yesterday. After breakfast today, on the way to the workshop, I will create a distraction by the junction of the corridors in the east wing, when you can, take the east corridor right until the very end. There, the end window should be relatively hidden from the eyes of anyone, you can open it with the wire. Once that is open, you have only a few feet before the fence, it's the closest part of the building to the outer perimeter, as well as the lowest part after it was damaged by that falling tree last month, climb over the fence and you're free."

"And then what?" Jeff's voice came out as though he was in a trance, as all his hopes and dreams seemed to be becoming closer and closer.

"Run, Jeff," Kurt said, "Run to wherever you want to, you should have the cover of the trees. Now, when you reach the third oak tree in line with the window you have come from, the one with the patterns in the bark that I pointed out to you once on the way to church, there is a bundle containing food in the branches. I'm afraid that I could not secure any money."

Jeff was astounded, and he stared at the other boy for several moments while he let this news sink in.

"Thank you," he said breathlessly, "I, I don't know what to say, thank you." He frowned. "But why me? And why now?"

Kurt shook his head.

"There is not enough time for me to explain it all to you," he said, "But know this, you are finally old enough to look after yourself and make your own choices. You should not have to be stuck in here against your will, all because of where your parents decided to leave you."

Suddenly, the bell tolled loudly, and the boys around them began filing towards the door. Jeff kept the small length of wire tightly held in his palm, hiding it from view, while Kurt fell into step behind him.

"And Jeff," Kurt added softly so that only the two of them could hear his words, "Don't think I don't know that you cry yourself to sleep at night."

* * *

Jeff could barely eat his breakfast in the anticipation of what was about to happen, and also whether it would work or not. The gruel, which on most days was unpalatable and unappetising, seemed to Jeff to threaten to choke him as he tried to take spoonfuls, and his heart leapt into his throat every time an overseer looked over at him, making him feel as though they had already discovered his secret.

He kept one hand under the table, gripping the wire tightly, and at the same time, the locket, on its chain around his neck, seemed to grow heavier in itself, as though also aware of the stress and anxiety that its wearer was feeling, and by the end of the meal, Jeff was sure that he had given himself away by looking entirely suspicious.

Finally, after what had felt like a test of strength to the young blonde, the bell went again, and he suddenly found himself in line with the other apprentice tailors, walking steadily towards their workshop on the ground floor.

For a moment, Jeff almost forgot what was about to happen, as he traipsed aimlessly behind the boy in front and tried to not to think about anything in particular.

And then Kurt began his distraction.

He gave a sudden loud cry, clutched wildly at his stomach, and then collapsed on the floor, whimpering to himself as though in great pain. The other boys suddenly halted, and someone was sent to fetch one of the nurses, or at least, one of the women who were classified as nurses by the workhouse's standards. The overseer tried to get some sense out of Kurt as he continued to make a strange noise, and since the older boy was his most promising protégé, he didn't seem to mind so much when the other boys fell out of line and gathered round.

Jeff suddenly saw his opportunity as the others were distracted, and he immediately turned down the east corridor, running as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself with the sound of his feet. He knew that the east corridor would not be being used at this point in the day, and he had a pretty slim chance of running into anyone; and it would awfully bad luck if he did.

At the end of the corridor was the window that Kurt had been talking about. It was narrow but tall, almost shaped conveniently like any other door, and since it seemed to have no real purpose as a window, Jeff wondered whether it had been installed on the basis that it would be used as a point of exit.

The lock was about halfway up on one side, and Jeff founded that he could easily insert the wire into it and after moving it around a little, he felt the lock mechanism itself start to shift. It seemed as though it hadn't been used in a long time, but it didn't take too long before the lock itself clicked barely audibly, and Jeff knew that he'd done it.

Lock-picking was something that Jeff had discovered that he had a talent for; ever since he'd stolen a family item back for another boy out of the parish beadle's own private room, he'd been hailed as the go-to man if someone wanted a job like that done. He knew that that was why Kurt had trusted him with this method of escape, because if anyone could break themselves out without damaging any of the property, it was Jeff.

Kurt had also been right about the position of the fence from the window, for while the rest of the perimeter stretched out into the courtyard at the front of the building, as it came towards the east wing, it curved inwards in order to accommodate the woods on the other side. The fence itself was itself was made of cast iron railings, reaching up high, but the designer had put in bars about halfway up, which would serve as good footholds for the blonde to use.

Glancing behind himself once, Jeff placed the piece of wire inside his empty locket, a convenient place for something which might have further use, before turning to the outside world. He put one foot out onto the stone paving outside, and then the other, revelling in the overwhelming sense of trepidation it gave him. He knew that running should have felt bad, but instead, the thought of freedom seemed so right and natural. And so, without taking another glance back, Jeff quickly ran the few yards to the fence, put one foot on the iron bar, lifted his other leg over and dropped down smoothly onto the other side.

His next focus was the old oak tree, the one with the patterns carved into it which Kurt had once pointed out to him on their way to church on Easter Sunday, Jeff seemed to recall it being.

He'd always wondered how Kurt had known that that tree was there, but he'd never questioned it; he'd never really thought to question anything that Kurt knew.

When he finally reached the tree itself, the bundle of food that the older boy had left was easy to locate, sitting up on the first branch, and Jeff barely had to stretch up to reach it and bring it down. He wanted to look inside and eat some of it immediately, but he decided instead to do that once he was a further distance from the workhouse.

He took a few moments instead to catch his breath, and used this time to inspect the carvings in the bark. Most of the scratches where indecipherable, but in others, Jeff could pick out various letters and words. In a spur of the moment decision, he found himself a sharp stick and hurriedly scratched a quick thank you and added his initials underneath, hoping that Kurt, since he seemed to be able to get out there whenever he wanted, would see it and know how grateful he was.

When he did finally decide that it was time to move on, he gathered up the bundle of food under his arm and set off in the opposite direction to the workhouse, east, he supposed, if he used the sun's position as guidance. He, however, had no idea where exactly he was, nor where the workhouse was actually located in relation to London, but he hoped that if he headed far enough, he would reach a major road, and from then on, he might be able to ask his way.

It wasn't until he was out of the woods and staring at the horizon as though it was actually calling to him that it suddenly struck him that he'd never properly had a chance to say goodbye to Kurt; when he'd left, the other boy had been curled up on the floor and Jeff had not even glanced back as he'd run. The blonde turned around and over the tops of the trees could just catch a glimpse of the roof of the workhouse, and somewhere inside would be Kurt. He reached a hand up to the locket around his neck slowly, and grasped it within his fingers. He lifted it up and pressed it to his lips softly as if that signalled his goodbyes.

And then, wondering if anyone had noticed his absence yet, he turned back to the horizon and set off purposefully in the direction of his future.

* * *

**A/N: So, what did everyone think of the first chapter? Nick shall be appearing shortly, of course, but I wanted to set this story up like this :)**

**Thank you for reading, and please leave a review to tell me what you thought or to ask a question about the history :)**

**Historical Points:**

**1. Workhouses were institutes set up in England and Wales in order to provide places of accommodation for the poor and unemployed - they were especially prominent in the 19th century due to mass unemployment at the end of the Napoleonic Wars in 1815. Many children were abandoned in workhouses or their mothers died having sought shelter there, they would either be used for labour, oakum-picking - picking apart old ship ropes to remove the tar-like substance - stone breaking or as apprentices to a number of skilled jobs, such as tailoring.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Chapter 2 already, and there's the appearance of a certain, rather vital character in this one - I'm sure you can guess who it is! And there'll be more introductions to characters over the next few chapters :)**

**Just a quick note which I should have explained better in the last chapter - yes, technically Jeff is over the age of 16 and can voluntarily leave the workhouse, however, he has entered into an apprenticeship, which were notoriously hard to get out of, usually requiring payment to be released, and Jeff doesn't have this, so running seems like the best option :)**

**Warnings: Slight language warning for the word 'whore', I would have used 'prostitute' instead but it probably wouldn't have been the term used on the streets of Victorian London - there are plenty of other words I could have used as well, but half of them are quite obscure so I'm sure most people would look at them and think 'what on Earth is that?' :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee and I don't own Oliver Twist.**

* * *

It turned out that London was a lot further away than Jeff had thought it was, and after walking for nearly two hours, he might have seen several roads but he had not seen a single person.

His greatest fear was that he had walked around in a circle, and would suddenly find himself back outside the workhouse again. He was free now; he never wanted to go back to feeling imprisoned again.

Finally, he chanced upon a man driving a cart up one of the dirt tracks that he was making his way along, and, waving wildly, he managed to catch the man's attention. He drew the cart up beside the blonde and leaned towards him curiously.

"Something wrong, boy?" he asked, looking rather suspicious, as though Jeff might be a decoy of some sort and a hundred other people would jump out at any point from the countryside in order to rob him.

"Yes, er, sir," Jeff stumbled a little over the formalities, never really having had to speak to anybody outside of the workhouse before, usually, if he'd had to, he would keep his head down and make Kurt do it instead. "I was wondering if you knew the way to London?"

The man stared at him for a few moments, as though contemplating asking him why he wanted to go there, but instead seemingly deciding that actually it wasn't his place to ask that.

"It's that way," he pointed down the road in the direction that Jeff had been heading, "Keep going straight down here until you come to a crossroads, and then take the road on the right. After that, you'll have to ask someone else. Now, if you don't mind."

And he'd pulled away before Jeff had a chance to thank him; clearly, he wasn't taking the risk of possibly having the blonde boy ask if he could take him part of the way in his cart. So, instead, Jeff continued on his way on foot.

He followed the man's instructions and once he'd taken the next road, he continued down it for several hours, discovering that there appeared to be no other turnings that he could take, apart from the occasional dirt track. Instead, it was starting to get dark and the blonde's feet ached with the walking he'd been doing.

He decided that the best thing he could do was to find a place to sleep for the night, and to continue on in the morning. He came upon a small hedgerow, on the other side of which was a freshly cut field of grass, the cuttings piled high towards the edges. Concluding that grass cuttings would be softer to sleep on than the hard stones of the road, Jeff leapt over the hedges and went about making himself a rough bed of grass to lie on.

He ate some more of the bread that Kurt had left him, before curling over onto his side and hugging the bundle of food to his chest in order to keep it safe.

He was so exhausted that he fell asleep quicker than he had ever thought possible before.

* * *

The next morning dawned bright and clear, but Jeff awoke to the sound of someone's hushed tones nearby.

"Get on with it, you idiot!" someone was hurriedly hissing at clearly another person, to who's presence Jeff had yet to become aware of.

"I'm trying!" the other person replied, equally urgently. "But he won't let go of the damn thing!"

Suddenly, Jeff's eyes flashed open and he immediately grasped the situation; there were two boys, perhaps only a year older than himself, attempting to wrestle his bundle of food out of his grip.

"Hey!" he cried in annoyance and slight fear, "Get off, that's mine!"

"Too bad!" snapped the boy who'd spoken first, he was standing off to one side, letting his friend do all of the work. "We're hungry."

"So am I!" Jeff said, "Get off, will you? Go and find your own food!"

But the boys were both stronger than he was, and when the second one delivered a sharp kick to his side, he involuntarily let go of the bundle.

"Got it!" the boy cried triumphantly, holding the bundle above his head as though it were a prize of some sort.

"Give it back!" Jeff tried to yell angrily, but it came out weaker than he'd intended it to be from where he was curled on the floor in pain.

The two boys gave him rather scornful and contemptuous looks as they walked away laughing to themselves.

"Looks like another one of those workhouse orphans," the first boy remarked, "Run away, have you?"

Jeff didn't answer.

"Maybe we should take him back?" the other boy suggested, to which his friend smirked.

"If I didn't like the idea of just leaving him here," he said, "I'd agree with you. No, let's see how far he gets with nothing to eat."

And they disappeared behind the hedgerow, laughing mockingly to themselves.

Jeff's heart sank as he dropped his head onto the grass in defeat. His side was throbbing painfully and he was sure that he would have a bruise there, while his stomach rumbled loudly. He cursed his own inability to fight back aloud and tried to push the idea of hunger from his thoughts; he'd lived on workhouse food all of his life, he could suffer a few more hours without anything, though he wasn't sure how he would find any more after that.

Oh, why couldn't he just have stood up for himself?

But Jeff knew why; he just wasn't strong enough. There was nothing he would have liked more than to have hit a few of the boys at the workhouse whenever they teased him for having been chosen to be one of the tailors' apprentices, but he always found himself suffering the worst during any fights; even Kurt was stronger than he was.

Shakily, the blonde boy got to his feet and began to make his way out of the field. He reached his hand up to his neck, just to make sure that his locket was still there, and fortunately, his most precious belonging was still in the same place it had always been.

The dusty road looked even less appealing than it had done the night before, but Jeff had no choice but to continue down it. For where else would he go than London? He knew of no other places, and there was no way that he was going to allow himself to be stuck in a small rural village again; he was going to London, where everyone went to make their futures.

It was an hour later that he came upon a cart, parked up beside an empty field, while the owner was letting his horse graze in the grass.

As he passed, the man was just leading the horse back to the cart, and when their paths crossed, he halted the blonde quickly.

"Here, boy, you lost?" he asked, sounding rather concerned, or at least, more concerned than Jeff would have thought he would have been. He had a kindly, weathered face, and his eyes showed that he'd seen more than he cared to in his lifetime.

"Not exactly," Jeff replied.

The man chuckled.

"You look like you are," he said, "Where're you headed?"

"London, sir," the blonde boy replied.

"Ah, I see," the man nodded, "Lot's of people go to London, yes, I've seen a lot of boys like you going to London." His face became thoughtful. "Are you sure that I can't persuade you to go somewhere else?"

Jeff shook his head firmly.

"No," he said, "Why would I want to go anywhere else?"

The man sighed but didn't answer his question.

"Get up there," he pointed to the seat of the cart, "I'm heading that way; I'll give you a ride."

Jeff looked doubtful.

"Really, sir?" he asked.

"Really," the man confirmed, "And if you ever want to continue on foot, just tell me and I'll set you down." He finished tying the horse's ropes to the harness, and then he came back to the cart and climbed up into the seat beside Jeff, taking the reins in his hands and clicking to the horse to start moving. "Now, what's your name?"

"Jeff," Jeff replied, "Jeff Sterling."

The cart owner nodded at this.

"Josiah Wakefield," he returned, "But call me Wakefield, everyone does."

There was a lull in their conversation as they headed down the road, the cart jolting over every small stone they encountered, but it still gave Jeff a rest from walking on his aching feet.

"So, where have you come from, Jeff?" Wakefield asked.

Jeff didn't answer for a moment. He didn't want to tell the truth and risk the man turning around and taking him all the way back to the workhouse, but he couldn't really think of a suitable lie.

"Nowhere, really," he said finally.

"Nowhere?" Wakefield raised an eyebrow, and Jeff cursed his own stupidity. "You can't be from nowhere. Where were your parents from?"

Jeff shrugged.

"I don't know," he said, "We used to, er, travel around a lot, never staying very long in one place, until my parents died, that is, about, er, two years ago."

The man nodded slowly.

"And what have you been doing for these last few years?"

"Drifting," Jeff said quickly, "I've been trying to find a job which suited me, and now I've decided to try London."

"Alright," Wakefield said, and Jeff wondered whether he had truly believed his story or not.

* * *

Just three hours later, they were rolling up the cobbled streets of the city of London itself. Jeff gazed in wonder at the great arches of the buildings around him, the bustle of the busy streets, the bright colours of the cloths which hung from several high windows, and the noise of the cabs as they passed by. All around was the world he'd been searching for, one where the colours were no longer dull and grey, but startling and new.

"Like it?" Wakefield asked, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched Jeff's reaction.

"It's better than I ever dreamed," the blonde breathed out excitably.

"Well, this is where I leave you," the man said, "You'd best be making your own way now."

Jeff nodded eagerly, he couldn't wait to get down and start exploring, even if he had no idea where he was headed.

"Thank you, sir," he said, turning back to the cart owner, "Thank you very much."

He went to climb down but Wakefield's hand shot out and he grabbed Jeff's wrist sharply.

"One minute, boy," he said, his tone changing suddenly and making a cold feeling settle in Jeff's stomach. "You haven't paid me yet."

"Paid you?" Jeff practically squeaked, "You never mentioned payment, and I don't have any money."

Wakefield was silent for a moment, before something caught his eye: the locket around Jeff's neck.

"Ah," he smiled slowly, "This shall do nicely."

He went to reach for the chain but Jeff realised what he was doing first. In the panic of possibly losing his most precious possession, the blonde boy reacted instinctively, lashing out with his fist and catching the man across the face with one punch. There was some sort of sickening crunch and Wakefield fell backwards into the cart itself with a cry of pain.

Seizing his chance, Jeff leapt down from the cart and ran as fast as he could, heading immediately down the nearest darkened alley in the hope that no one would follow him, least of all, Wakefield himself.

He was about halfway down the cobbles when a voice halted him.

"Smart move back there," said someone from behind.

Jeff's blood froze as for a split second he thought it was Wakefield, mocking him before he caught him or suchlike, but once he thought about it, he realised that the voice belonged to someone much younger, closer to his age really.

Slowly, he turned around to locate the owner of the voice, only to discover that there was seemingly no one there.

"Excuse me?" Jeff called out, trying to sound brave but knowing that his voice was shaking with nervousness.

There was a short chuckle, and then a boy stepped out of the shadows of a doorway, appearing almost out of thin air.

"I said, smart move back there," he repeated.

Jeff just stared back at him. This newcomer was perhaps a year or two older than him but shorter in stature, and with a mass of unruly brunette hair and shining dark brown eyes. He had on a long blue gentleman's coat, although clearly years of wear had reduced it to little more than a limp, stained piece of material; it was worn over a pair of tattered trousers and a linen shirt with another, equally stained, deep red waistcoat over the top. He looked like someone who was trying especially hard to look respectable, but with his appearance and social class, that was never going to happen.

Jeff now felt rather undressed in his roughly spun shirt, torn grey trousers and loose woollen jacket.

"Come on, I know you talk," the boy said, looking rather bored as he folded his arms and stared at the blonde. "So, open up and answer me."

"What?" Jeff stuttered, "What do you want me to answer?"

The boy chuckled again, shaking his head.

"Look, I didn't mean to tease you," he said, "But I said, smart move back there, you know, with Wakefield."

Jeff frowned.

"You know him?"

The other boy shrugged.

"Not exactly," he said, "But I've seen him do the same thing as he did to you with several other people, though you're the first I've seen refuse to give in." He smiled. "I'll give you credit for that."

Jeff blushed a little.

"I didn't mean to," he said, "It just sort of happened."

The other boy threw back his head and laughed loudly at this.

"I have never met anyone who has apologised for punching someone, most of them want to go back and have another go," he said, as his laughter subsided, "You're clearly not from anywhere around here, are you?"

Jeff shook his head.

"So, where're you from then?"

"Nowhere," Jeff said hurriedly, but to his surprise, the other boy nodded understandingly.

"I see," he said simply, and Jeff was grateful for that. "So, what was it that Wakefield tried to take? Must have been something special for you to lash out like that," the brunette continued.

Jeff's hands flew up to his neck as the other boy took a few steps closer.

"It's a locket," he said, "It was my mother's."

"What's in it? A picture of her?"

"Nothing, it's empty." That wasn't strictly true, but Jeff didn't think that a piece of wire was the sort of thing the other boy was thinking of when he'd asked.

Now, the brunette frowned, clearly never having thought that people would bother with lockets which were empty, but, curiously, he still took a step forward, as though to have a look at the object.

Jeff panicked a little and took a small step in the opposite direction, trying to put a larger space between the two of them.

"It's mine," he said firmly, "You can't have it."

The brunette stopped up short and held his hands up to show that he meant nothing of the sort.

"I don't want it," he said, "It's yours, I don't take things that belong to other people." Jeff eyed him suspiciously as he continued talking. "Well, not in certain situations anyway."

He shook his head again, almost in frustration at the blonde's slightly terrified and mistrusting expression.

There was a short silence before Jeff began to turn away.

"Well, I'll be off then," he said, going to hurry away down the alley and out the other side to wherever it might lead him, when the boy called after him suddenly.

"I wouldn't go that way if I were you," he said, and, with a sigh, Jeff turned back to face him again.

"Why ever not?" he asked, wondering if the brunette had some sort of problem with him and was now enjoying messing with his head, because if that was what he was aiming for, he was definitely succeeding.

The brunette thrust his hands in his pockets and rocked backwards and forwards on his heels for several seconds before answering.

"I think they'd enjoy having you, down there, I mean," he spoke up, pointing down the alleyway and smirking a little to himself before coming down a little closer to the blonde. "Yes, they'd like it very much. I'm not sure about you, though, you seem rather too innocent for that sort of thing."

Jeff didn't understand what the other boy was getting at, and he felt indignation rising inside of him at the seemingly accusatory observation of his innocence.

"What sort of thing?" he demanded to know, "What sorts of people live down there?"

The brunette was still smirking at his confusion.

"You've got a pretty face," he continued, "You'd probably interest them a lot, yes, they like the innocent ones the best."

Jeff frowned at the teasing tone in the other boy's voice; he didn't like being called pretty, it had always been a term used to describe the girls at the workhouse, on the rare occasion that the boys saw them at church, and Jeff had no desire to remember the countless times that he'd been called a girl as an insult.

"Stop!" he cried suddenly, startling himself with the forcefulness of his own voice. "Just tell me what you're talking about!"

The brunette seemed to be just as shocked by the outburst as Jeff was, and it took a few moments before he reacted, the smirk falling from his face as he spoke and a hardened expression fell into its place.

"They're whores," he said bluntly, "There're a dozen or so whorehouses down there, and as I said, I'm sure they'd be greatly interested by you."

Jeff blushed at his own ignorance before he could stop himself.

"Sorry," he whispered, as though apologising to the other boy for not catching on faster.

"You don't need to apologise," the brunette said, sounding almost incredulous, "I knew you were innocent as soon as I first saw you."

"Is it that obvious?" Jeff asked sheepishly.

The other boy shrugged.

"Pretty much."

Jeff shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

"I take it that you, er, aren't keen on, you know, _those _people," he said, motioning behind himself with his hand.

The brunette chuckled at the other boy's unwillingness to say the word whore.

"I try to avoid them as much as possible," he said, "They're nothing if not persistent."

Jeff cracked a weak smile but he didn't really understand the joke.

"So," the other boy said suddenly, "Are you going anywhere in particular in London?"

Jeff shook his head.

"No."

"Shame," the brunette said, "I was looking forward to escorting you, I'm a proper gentleman, you see."

Jeff doubted that but he couldn't help laughing when the other boy pretended to doff an imaginary cap and give him a sweeping bow.

"Well," the blonde said shyly, "I would like to get out of this alley, maybe you could escort me out into the street?"

The other boy chuckled lowly and mockingly offered Jeff his arm, and the blonde, thinking that this should have felt slightly more humiliating than it actually was, complied obligingly.

"I suppose, then," the brunette said, "I ought to tell you my name, now that we're properly acquainted and such like. Nicholas Duval, at your service, but I'd prefer it if you would simply call me Nick."

Jeff smiled.

"Jeffrey Sterling," he said, "Commonly known as Jeff."

"Jeff it is," Nick grinned, and they emerged together out into the brighter light of the London street.

Jeff glanced around himself carefully, checking that Wakefield had gone.

"Don't worry," Nick said, sensing what Jeff was worried about, "He won't have hung around very long, he'll be off finding someone else to con out of their money or belongings." He dropped Jeff's arm and faced him suddenly. "Now, are you hungry?"

"Starving," Jeff replied without even having to think about his answer, he'd been trying to ignore the rumbling of his stomach for a while but without much luck.

Nick smiled.

"Come with me then," he said, leading the blonde down the street a little to where a small baker's shop stood on one corner, several loaves of bread sat out to display while the baker himself sold them off to passers by.

The two boys, to Jeff's surprise, didn't stop by it, instead, Nick took them both around the corner of the shop, before peering back around the side of the wall; once the baker's attention was elsewhere, he reached out a hand and snatched one of the loaves.

"Here," he said, breaking the bread in half and holding out one piece to Jeff, who just stared at it.

"You didn't pay for that," the blonde said accusingly. "That's stealing!"

Nick bit his lip, clearly trying not to laugh at the horrified look on the younger boy's face.

"It's exactly the same as what you did when you didn't pay Wakefield," he said, "Except, I didn't punch the baker."

"That was different," Jeff retorted, "I was defending myself and I didn't realise that I would have to pay him; he tricked me. But you did that on purpose."

"Of course I did that on purpose," Nick said, shaking his head in disbelief; Jeff really didn't get it, did he? "Now, do you want this bread or not?"

"Yes," Jeff said grudgingly, "And thank you, sort of."

Nick chuckled as the blonde bit hungrily into the bread and was quickly demolishing it within several seconds.

"Now, let's go." He started walking further into the heart of the city, Jeff following hurriedly at his side.

"Where are we going?" the younger boy asked, his mouth full of bread as he spoke.

Suddenly, a thought struck Nick.

"You don't have any lodgings, do you?" he asked, "Nor any money?"

Jeff shook his head.

"Nothing," he said, "Nothing at all." He watched as the brunette's lips curved upwards into a small smile.

"I see," Nick said, "Well, I just so happen to know a place that will give you a roof over your head and food to eat free of charge."

* * *

**A/N: So, Nick and Jeff have met - what do you guys think of the story so far? And do you like the characterisations? :)**

**Thank you for reading, and please leave a review to tell me what you thought or to ask a question about the history :)**

**Historical Points:**

**1. Not so much historical really, but I'm guessing that lots of you can tell where I got the inspiration for Nick's clothes from? If not, look up a picture of The Artful Dodger from the 1968 musical version of Oliver! and you'll see exactly the sort of thing I was going for - apart from the top hat, I couldn't really picture Nick with a top hat on! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So, Chapter 3 heralds the arrival of some new characters, the characterisations of whom I hope that you will like, well, maybe dislike...you'll see why when you meet them! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and I do not own Oliver Twist.**

* * *

"I see," Nick said, "Well, I just so happen to know a place that will give you a roof over your head and food to eat free of charge."

Jeff's eyes lit up.

"Really?" he asked eagerly, and then his face fell realising that he'd said exactly the same thing when Wakefield had offered him a ride.

"What's wrong?" Nick asked, noticing his expression.

"I," Jeff shook his head, "I just said the same thing to Wakefield, only for it to turn out that he'd tricked me; I don't want you to do the same thing."

An unreadable look flickered across the brunette's face, but before Jeff could properly register it, it had gone and was replaced instead by Nick's bright smile again.

"I'm not Wakefield, Jeff," he said reassuringly, "I mean this, I know a place that'll give you food and shelter, and you won't have to pay a single penny." Nick's heart felt heavy in his chest as made this promise, such a blatant lie, but why did he care so much? He'd said this to other people, why on Earth did it now make him feel slightly sick with disgust?

Poor, innocent Jeff had no idea what he was getting himself into, and for some reason, the brunette felt bad about what he was doing, as though this wasn't what he did for a living. He could have been a professional liar, since he seemed to have honed his skills over the course of his life, but this had to be the first time that he'd felt guilty for actually lying to someone. Usually it was second nature, he didn't even notice that he was doing it, so why was this such a big problem now?

"Are you alright?" Jeff's worried voice suddenly interrupted him, "Nick? You've gone very pale, you're not ill, are you?"

Nick looked up hurriedly and shook his head, flashing the blonde boy another smile.

"Of course not," he said, "Come on, let me show you where we're going."

He led the blonde down several winding alleyways, avoiding the mass of beggars which seemed to gather in the darkest corners, and who startled Jeff every time one of them lunged out of nowhere.

"Get off! He's not got anything to give you!" Nick cried, swiping at one of the beggars who tried to grab at the hems of their trousers. "Go on! Off with you!"

The man on the ground took one look at Nick and recognition sparked in his eyes before he retreated back into the safety of the shadows.

Jeff shot his companion a curious glance.

"He looked terrified of you," he remarked, addressing the brunette as they left the alleyway and came out into Fleet Street, before taking an almost immediate right onto Farringdon Street.

Nick shrugged, clearly not willing to give the blonde a proper answer to his question for reasons which were entirely unbeknown.

"They all back off if you tell them to," he said, "It wasn't anything special."

Jeff wasn't so sure about that; the man had definitely looked as though he'd recognised the brunette, and not in a good way.

"We'll take a short cut," Nick said abruptly, grabbing Jeff's wrist and pulling him down into a side street, the name of which had been obscured by the layers of grim and filth that had accumulated on it.

Jeff started to get the impression that this was not the London he had been dreaming of, but he kept following his newfound friend, having nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to. This London, to his horror, had become darker and dirtier, the walls of nearby buildings painted with black smoke and the bricks covered in some sort of unhealthy grey sludge. It was not the same dull atmosphere as the workhouse had been, but instead one that whispered of dangers and undesirables around every corner.

"Up here," Nick said, dragging him out of the road and up a narrow alleyway, thinner and darker, it seemed, than any of the others they had been in previously, and Jeff suddenly had the overwhelming feeling that the darkness here was preceding some sort of hell that he was about to descend into on the other side.

The street on the other side, with its tall buildings which leant over into the street, cutting out the sunlight and giving the distinct impression that at some point they would collapse entirely into the mire between them, was Saffron Hill, though Jeff would not know this yet, as there were no signs in place to declare its name. It was notorious for the shady and illegal activities that went on in the area, and avoided for the same reason. The only people who frequented it were those involved in those businesses themselves and therefore, had lodgings there.

But Jeff was not to know this, this being only his first day in the city, although he would discover it soon enough.

"Is this safe?" the blonde asked, cautiously placing his foot on the wooden board which would provide him with passage over what looked, and smelt, like an open sewer system. "I mean, it's not going to snap is it?"

Nick chuckled.

"I doubt you're heavy enough for that," he said, "And larger people have used it, now, get across before I leave you behind."

"You wouldn't!" Jeff immediately paled at that possibility; he felt nervous enough in such an environment, but at least with Nick by his side he had convinced himself that he was a little safer.

Nick smirked.

"Let's not test it then," he said, "Now, come on."

Carefully, Jeff made his way across, discovering that the board seemed stronger than it actually looked. When he reached the other side, Nick turned around and pointed up to a building a few feet away, the door of which seemed to be halfway up the wall, with a flight of rickety old steps leading to it.

"Is this it?" the blonde asked, his voice dropping to a whisper as he spoke, and he wasn't sure whether it was down to dread or panic.

Nick nodded.

"It's not much," he said, "But it's better than the streets." He paused. "Or worse."

Jeff didn't have the courage to ask him what he meant by that.

"Let's go on up," the brunette decided, leading the way up the steps and knocking sharply on the door, while Jeff followed behind him slightly hesitantly.

It sounded like there was a muffled reply on the other side of the rotting piece of wood, and then a bolt, or several, was pulled across and the door swung open. Nick turned around to Jeff and beckoned for him to come inside, although it took the blonde several seconds to gather up the courage to make his feet move in that direction.

The first thing that he noticed about the interior of this building was the smoke which seemed to cover everything and everyone, making it hard for him to pick out anything but the vague outlines of the sparse furniture and a few seated figures. The thick air reminded him of the workhouse, and a feeling of cold dread settled deep inside of him; somewhere in his head, a small voice was telling him that he walked out of one such place and into another similar one.

He then noticed the shift in the air. When Nick had opened the door, he'd been able to pick out the chatter of laughing voices, but as soon as he stepped into the room, a deadly silence had suddenly descended upon the occupants.

Nick rolled his eyes.

"Alright, boys," he said, "Stop gawking."

Clearly he could see the people in the smoke better than Jeff could.

"I thought we had a no girls rule?" someone remarked, and another voice chimed in with loud and obnoxious laughter.

That comment stung and suddenly Jeff was reminded of Nick's earlier statement that he was pretty. His chest tightened painfully in panic and he tried to calm himself down by taking deep breaths but nothing seemed to be working. He glanced back at the door, wondering whether it was too late to make a run for it. But if he did, where would he go? Where would he get food from?

He'd probably die on the streets. This may not have been his first choice of accommodation, but if it meant survival, then at least that was something. He could stick it out for a few days, and then decide to find a better option if it got too bad.

There was still laughter and insults being shot around the room when his thoughts came back to the present, but at least, this time, Nick seemed to become aware of them too.

"Shut it!" he snapped, causing the other people in the room to fall silent again; Nick did seem to have some sort of power over a lot of people, Jeff noticed.

"Hey, Nicky, does he talk?" came a voice from one of the corners.

Nick glared daggers at whoever had spoken.

"Don't call me that," he said, "And I said shut it, David."

Suddenly, as if it had been miraculously evaporated by some greater being, the smoke in the room seemed to clear, and instead, a rather chilling cold seemed to seep up through the very floorboards and into the air. Now, Jeff could see that there were three other boys in the room with them, one in the corner, who must have been David, and two more perched on a low wooden bench; all three had pipes hanging loosely from their mouths, which were not helping the atmosphere of the room.

"Finally come home have you, Nicholas?" a voice interrupted everyone and spoke out, but the person the voice belonged to did not emerge. The voice was cold and hard, as cold as the temperature of the room seemed to have dropped to, and Jeff felt a shiver crawling its way up his spine at the tone.

Nick's expression hardened.

"Don't make it sound like you don't know where I've been," he said, "You always know where I am."

"Now, now, Nicholas, is that a way to talk in front of a guest?"

Nick took a protective step in front of Jeff.

"He needs a place to sleep and eat," the brunette said, "I know that we can offer him that."

Although Jeff still couldn't see whoever the other boy was talking to, he could just tell that the other person was smirking when he spoke.

"And does he know what we ask for in return?"

Jeff's blood ran cold; Nick had tricked him, he'd trusted him and now he looked like a fool. He was a fool. He knew nothing of the world.

Nick sighed heavily.

"No," he said finally, "No, he doesn't."

The voice chuckled, and a low, mocking whisper passed through the boys in the room.

"Nicholas, Nicholas, Nicholas," the voice said, that smirk still evident, "You know, I think I'm almost _proud_ of you."

Nick looked mildly disgusted.

"I don't need your praise," he said, "Why don't you come out and show your face instead of cowering back there?"

There was the sound of someone moving around in the backroom, before the shadow of a figure appeared to dance along the bricks of the wall and a hush of anticipation fell over everyone. Slowly, the person revealed themselves, and Jeff couldn't help but feel marginally disappointed; he'd been expecting some great, dangerous looking fellow, tall and muscular, who held power over Nick and the other boys through fear.

Instead, the man who emerged looked barely older than his mid-twenties, his complexion had once been tanned, but was now a sickly grey colour, and he was smaller and thinner than his voice seemed to paint the impression of him being.

He smirked at the look on the blonde's face.

"Wesley Montgomery," he said, holding out a hand for Jeff to come forward and take.

Jeff shot Nick a glance, to which the brunette nodded encouragingly; Jeff didn't know why he still felt like he could trust him.

Cautiously, the blonde approached the rather foreboding figure, extending his hand nervously in order to grasp the older man's hand in his own. As soon as their fingers touched though, Wesley grabbed his wrist instead, pulling him over slightly as he leaned in close to whisper in his ear.

"I run this place," he said, "_My_ rules. Not that you'd dare to challenge me anyway, you practically stink of the country." He sneered. "Workhouse orphan." He practically spat the words as though the entire idea disgusted him. "So, what's your name?"

"Jeffrey," Jeff replied shakily; Jeff was a familiar name afforded to only those he liked, though why Nick came into that category astounded him, Wesley could deal with his full name. "Jeffrey Sterling."

The older man nodded, and Jeff could feel cold breath against his ear as he spoke.

"Good, _Jeffrey_. Now, if you would like to take a seat? We'll give you a little, well, demonstration, shall we say?"

Jeff knew that the man might have phrased it as a question but there was only one option that he could take, and so he perched himself nervously on a rickety old stool and hoped that nothing would happen to him. For a fleeting second, he considered making a run for it, but he couldn't help but feel that Wesley did not make empty threats and he dreaded to think what might happen if they caught him.

The four boys, Nick included, and Wesley gathered over in one corner for a moment, seemingly trawling through an open wooden box that Jeff could only see one side of, and occasionally picking items from it. He hear the hushed tones of their voices, discussing something, before they had turned around and were facing him again, moving various old chairs and other bits of furniture out of the way as they did so.

Wesley cast a smirking glance over at Jeff.

"Watch and learn, Jeffrey," he said, "Watch and learn."

Jeff narrowed his eyes in confusion; he had no idea what they were doing nor what they were trying to illustrate to him. To his rather innocent mind, the fact that Wes appeared to be walking around the floor and doing nothing but just pacing baffled him entirely.

And then, suddenly and much to his surprise, Nick seemed to appear out of nowhere from behind the older man, whipping around behind him before he had a chance to catch sight of him. Jeff wondered exactly what the brunette was doing as he dipped his hand lightly into the man's coat pocket, drawing something out so quickly that Jeff missed what it was, and by the time he realised what had happened, Nick had returned to his seat by the corner.

Next came the two boys that Jeff had yet to learn the names of, also seemingly just pacing like Wesley. That was, until the taller of the two accidentally walked into the older man, and once he was apologising to him and helping him up again, the smaller boy darted between the man's legs and removed something from the back pocket of his trousers. Again, Jeff missed what it was.

Finally was the boy that Jeff remembered as David, and his act lasted no more than several seconds. He walked straight past Wesley as the man looked in the opposite direction and plucked something from the top pocket of his waistcoat.

Wesley suddenly stopped pacing, and flashed Jeff a slightly mocking smile before turning to the four boys in the corner.

"Alright, boys," he ordered, "Show him what you've got."

Slowly, each boy produced something from his pockets; Nick had a wallet, the two boys that Jeff didn't know had a handkerchief each, and David had a pocket watch. The blonde boy was astounded, what on Earth were they doing with those?

"Alright, boys, put them back," Wesley suddenly cried, clapping his hands together sharply. The reverie was broken and the four boys hurriedly to slip everything back into the box that Jeff assumed they had come from.

And then Wesley turned on him, coming closer to him until he was barely a foot away, while the boys, Nick included, clustered around him, forming what was almost like a barrier; it meant that Jeff could definitely see no chance to escape now.

"So, what did you think?" the older man asked, a smirking curling the edges of his lips, "Didn't they do well?"

Jeff was still rather bemused as to what was actually going on, so he just nodded unknowingly.

"Yes," he stuttered, "Very well."

"Speak up!" Wesley snapped, "And stop stuttering."

Jeff took a deep breath and repeated himself.

"I said that yes, they did do very well."

Wesley cracked a wide smile, showing off a mouthful of broken yellow teeth and several black chasms where others were missing, while the four boys laughed amongst themselves.

Jeff had the distinct impression that their source amusement was him.

"So, Jeffrey," Wesley said, "As part of your, shall we say, agreement? You'll be expected to learn how to do exactly what these boys were doing, in return for your food and lodgings, do you understand?"

It didn't look too hard, Jeff supposed, just running around and taking things from people's pockets; he could manage that.

"Yes," he nodded, not stuttering this time but still with a discernible waver in his voice.

"Good," Wesley said, "Nick can teach you."

Behind him, the boys smirked at the shorter brunette, who seemed to make a great show of not being particularly pleased by the decision.

"Wes!" Nick cried in annoyance, and it surprised Jeff to hear that the older man had a nickname such as this, "I have enough to do without teaching him! Give him to someone else!"

The blonde boy's heart sunk. He'd thought that Nick had actually liked him and wouldn't mind helping him, but then again, he had made the mistake of trusting him despite the brunette lying to him. But he desperately didn't want any of the other boys to have to tutor him, he wanted Nick or nobody.

Wes shook his head.

"You'll do as I say, Duval," he hissed, "And you'll stop calling me that."

And then he disappeared back into the backroom.

Nick and the other boys turned their attention back to Jeff, who was still perched on the old stool.

"Fine," the brunette said grudgingly, "You're mine from now until I've taught you everything."

Jeff nodded.

"And you will do everything I say, understood?" Nick continued, "And you will not ask unreasonable questions about anything that isn't relevant?"

Jeff agreed readily to Nick's terms, though the desire for information about where he was burned incessantly inside him and he cursed the other boy for including that agreement.

"Right, come with me," Nick said, making Jeff stand up and follow him around Wes' room and to where it seemed that the boys slept, since there were sheets drawn across old pallet beds and various pieces of clothing hanging about. The two boys ducked under a low beam to reach right to the back, and Jeff made a mental note to remember not to bump his head on the rafters when he went there. "This is your bed," the brunette said, picking up a loose sheet and dumping it on the empty space in the corner. "It's next to me." He patted the nearest bed. "And you can have this nail for your clothes." He looked Jeff up and down several times. "Not that you'll be needing it too much."

He turned back to the still stunned blonde boy.

"So, any questions?" he asked, quickly checking himself, "Relevant ones, I mean?"

Jeff's fingers played nervously with the hem of his shirt.

"Nick," he said softly, looking rather nervously at the brunette, "Er, what exactly were you doing back there?"

The older boy frowned.

"I mean, what do you _do_ here?" Jeff clarified, "What are you expecting me to do?"

Finally, Nick seemed to grasp what the other boy was asking, and once he understood, his mouth dropped open and he appeared to be lost for words for a few seconds.

"You mean you don't know?" he asked incredulously.

Jeff shook his head.

Slowly, the brunette rubbed his temples soothingly, trying to calm himself down as he realised how much of a mistake it had been to bring the younger boy back with him.

"We're pickpockets, Jeff," he said finally, "We're thieves. We steal things for a living; like that piece of bread I stole earlier."

Now it was the blonde's mouth which fell open, and he sat down heavily onto the bed that he had been allocated.

"You're mocking me, right?" he asked, "You're not…you don't." He put his head in his hands. "What have I gotten myself into?"

Nick's stomach dropped when he heard Jeff's words, but he couldn't show it, he just couldn't, so he kept his face blank and expressionless. It wouldn't do for him to get emotional over a random boy now. It didn't seem like Jeff would last the week once Wes had sent him out on his first job, and Nick didn't want to be left picking up the pieces by becoming too close to him.

And this new sensation which seemed to sweep over him, one of guilt, perturbed him slightly. He'd never felt bad about practically conning someone into working for Wes, but now, seeing Jeff in front him, something had been ignited inside of him, and he felt responsible for dropping the innocent blonde into his world. He should have left him in the street, he should have left him to go his own way.

"No," Nick shook his head, jumping slightly when he realised that he'd spoken aloud and Jeff was staring up at him. "I mean," he corrected, "It isn't as bad as it sounds; there are others who have it worse off than we do. Look, I'll take you somewhere to cheer you up."

* * *

And that's how Jeff found himself, terrified almost out his mind, following Nick down to the waterside, where a small tavern, set into a side street, lit up the area with the bright glow of the candles, and the sound of laughter and singing floated out into the evening air. If anything, Jeff didn't think that this place would cheer him up. What if it was full of Nick's friends? Full of other people whose only intention was to exploit his innocence as much as they could.

Nick strode a pace or two ahead of the blonde boy, appearing nonchalant and as if he couldn't have cared less about what Jeff was feeling or doing behind him. He had the confident air of someone who knew the place so well that they gave the impression that they owned it, and that everyone else should recognise that fact.

As they neared the entrance, they were forced to move to one side hurriedly as two rather drunk sailors, one supporting the other, stumbled out of the tavern and began to make their way down to the docks. One of them shouted something at them with a laugh but Jeff didn't catch exactly what he'd said and the two men were gone before he knew it, but it still didn't make him feel any more comfortable.

"Hurry up, will you?" Nick's voice suddenly called out, making Jeff's head snap up surprise. "And look a little more enthusiastic."

Jeff sped up his pace a little, but didn't try to make his expression any happier.

"I want you to meet someone," the brunette continued, "He should be in here somewhere, so stay close to me."

Jeff rolled his eyes.

"As if I'd wander off?" he snapped back, shocking himself as soon as the words left his mouth.

Nick's eyes narrowed.

"I'm trying to protect you, Jeff," he said, "You'd do well to remember that. There're people in here that wouldn't give second thoughts to doing things to you which you won't even have heard of before."

Jeff paled even more than he had done previously, and Nick seemed satisfied that that showed the other boy's submission to his authority.

"Now, let's go and find my friend," he said, turning back around to lead Jeff into the pub.

"No need," said a sudden voice, "I'm already here."

* * *

**A/N: Ooo, does anyone want to take a guess as to who has just arrived? And what do you think of the first appearance of the Warblers? :)**

**Thank you for reading, and please a review to tell me what you what or to ask a question about the history :)**

**Historical Points:**

**1. Technically, Nick, Jeff and other boys are far too old to be pickpockets, they're no longer small boys who can disappear unseen into a crowd, and, in David's and Jeff's cases in particular, they're actually quite tall so they would stand out considerably, however this technicality would ruin this story entirely, so this is just creative license.**

**2. Fleet Street, Farringdon Street and Saffron Hill are all roads in the centre of London, near to London Bridge and Holborn - one end of Fleet Street marks the boundary of the City of London/Westminister. Saffron Hill is a small street nearby in which Charles Dickens set Fagin's den in Oliver Twist, and so this is where I have set the Warblers' hideout, it's location was chosen due to it being a notorious hotspot for criminals.**

**3. Again, not so much of a historical point, but I'm sure if anyone has seen the 1968 Oliver! film then they will probably have realised but the home of the Warblers and the surrounding area is very similar to the set in the film - there will probably be a lot of film references in this story, so watch out for them :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry, about the delay, here's Chapter 4 - I haven't updated in nearly a month, which is the longest I think I've ever gone without updating! Hopefully people do still want to read this, because I know that this is different to my other stories, mainly in the fact that Wes and the Warblers aren't their usual lovely selves, but I decided that I wanted to try this approach, so I hope I'm doing it some form of justice! :)**

**I hope you're looking forward to meeting one new regular character and a cameo from another :)**

**Warning: Mild language warning, just some uses of the words 'whore', 'hell', 'damn' - I know it's quite mild but considering I don't use much of it usually, I thought I should point it out.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee and I do not own Oliver Twist.**

* * *

"No need," said a sudden voice, "I'm already here."

Jeff jumped in surprise but Nick just rolled his eyes and turned to face whoever had spoken.

Behind them stood a tall boy, similar in age to Nick, with long brown hair which needed trimming, and bright eyes which seemed to dance in the candlelight. He was leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe of the tavern, both hands thrust casually into the pockets of his dirty blue trousers. He grinned when he saw the two of them looking at him.

"Of course you're here, Sebastian," Nick replied, "You're always here."

The boy, Sebastian, clearly, shrugged.

"I work here, Nick," he said with a smirk, "I have to be here otherwise I don't get paid."

"You know that you'd do better with…" Nick began, but his friend cut him off.

"We're not going though this again," he said, "I work here now, and I will either work here until I drop down dead, or I'll find somewhere better." He paused, and his attention became fixed on Jeff. "So, who's the new fellow? Which gutter did you pick this one out of?"

Jeff bridled a little at that.

"What?" Sebastian asked, noticing the blonde boy's reaction to his observation. "If you weren't from the gutter you wouldn't even be here! We're all from the gutter; me, Nicky, you, what's the problem?"

"Oh, leave him alone, Seb," Nick said hurriedly, watching the situation clearly as Jeff started to retreat back into himself again. "He's not used to your teasing."

Sebastian just smirked.

"So, where'd you find him, Nicky?" he asked, "I see why you picked him; such a pretty face."

Something inside the blonde snapped at that.

"I'm not pretty!" he cried, "Stop calling me that! Both of you! I'm _not_ a girl, and I'm _not_ pretty!"

Both Nick and Sebastian fell silent at that. The taller boy was the first to react, holding his hands up in front of him in mock surrender.

"I meant that as a compliment," he said, "Being pretty doesn't make you a girl, does it, Nick?" When the shorter brunette didn't respond, his friend tried again. "Does it, Nick?"

It took Nick a few moments to recover from his stupor, his mind too full of worries for the terrified blonde by his side. This boy was obviously far too naïve and fragile for the life that Nick was trying to force upon him; he couldn't even understand a simple joke, and if someone as harmless as Seb upset him, then who knew what damage the other boys could do!

Finally, he did register that the taller boy was talking to him.

"No, of course not," he said shortly, "You're not a girl."

Jeff still didn't look convinced that the other two boys weren't just making fun of him.

"Look," Seb sighed, "You're quite clearly a boy." He let his eyes wander up Jeff's body, before winking at the horrified blonde. "_Quite_ clearly."

Jeff blushed scarlet and his eyes widened in shock, while, to his right, Nick made a noise of disapproval.

"Sebastian," he gritted out warningly, flashing a deep frown at the other boy, who just raised an eyebrow and smirked at his reaction.

"I'm just teasing," Seb replied, "You know me, Nicky. If there's a chance for teasing, then I'll take it. Jeff'll get used to it soon."

Jeff wasn't sure if he would.

"Now, come inside and have a drink, both of you." The taller brunette turned and ducked inside of the tavern itself, making his way over towards a small table tucked into one corner by the bar.

"Come on," Nick gestured for Jeff to follow him, "Stay close, remember."

Jeff nodded nervously, thinking of nothing else but remaining by Nick's side so that he felt as though he had some sort of protection. But clearly the nod was not enough reassurance, for the brunette suddenly seized him by the elbow and propelled him through the masses of people until they'd reached the table that Sebastian had been indicating.

"Here are your drinks." The tall brunette suddenly reappeared beside them, two tankards clasped in his hands. Despite the fact that they hadn't actually requested any beverages, Nick still took the mugs with a grin. He set one down in front of Jeff and bade the blonde to drink up.

He turned back to find Sebastian standing behind him with his palm outstretched. The shorter boy rolled his eyes.

"Aren't these ones on the house?" he asked, as his friend just looked meaningfully at his hand. "Oh, give it up, Seb, I brought Jeff here specially to meet you."

"This is an honest business," Sebastian replied, "Pay up, Nicky. These drinks aren't free, you know, and we have to make our money somehow."

"Honest business?" Nick scoffed, "Hardly. I know exactly where you make your money, and it isn't on drinks, I'll say."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Seb said, "Now pay up."

Grudgingly, Nick thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out a couple of coins, slapping them into his friend's palm and then sitting down heavily on the wooden bench. He put his feet up on the table top and leaned back against the wall lazily. Jeff eyed him as though he could barely believe how little manners the other boy seemed to have; Nick didn't care, manners had never counted for anything where he was concerned.

"I told you to drink up," the brunette turned to the blonde, who was still sloshing the contents of his mug around and inspecting it. "The more you stare at it, the more you realise how unappealing it is!" He laughed loudly, catching Sebastian's attention.

"There's nothing wrong with our ale, Duval!" the other boy responded, "You just can't appreciate anything."

Nick shook his head and took a swig from his tankard. Jeff copied him, gulping down a large mouthful, only to find that the liquid burned his throat and he was suddenly choking and spluttering in shock.

Across the table, the shorter brunette chuckled to himself.

"Take it slowly," he advised, "You'll get used to it after a while." He laughed again. "It's not as though you can drink anything else around here."

He finished his own ale and got up from his seat, heading to where Seb stood behind the bar, wiping a glass with a dirty cloth.

"I'll be back in a moment," Nick said, casting a glance back at Jeff, "Don't move."

Jeff stared back at him, and then went back to trying to take a smaller sip of his drink.

"Refill?" Sebastian asked, picking up a bottle and waving it at Nick.

"Only if I don't have to pay."

"Nick," Sebastian sighed, "Alright, just because you're my favourite customer."

"Shut up."

Sebastian laughed as he poured Nick a second glass.

The shorter boy threw a nod over in Jeff's direction suddenly.

"Did you even water his down a little?" he asked, to which Seb just smirked.

"Why? Bit too much for him, was it?"

Nick narrowed his eyes.

"Seb, I know that you're just trying to be funny," he said, "But stop messing with Jeff. Unless you hadn't noticed, he isn't exactly the sort of person you can just play around with. He'll get hurt."

Sebastian's hand froze midway through pouring Nick's drink as he simply stared at the boy in front of him.

"Are you _insane_?" he asked, "You think that giving him proper ale was wrong? I'm trying to toughen him up in any way I can. I wouldn't be surprised if some of those friends of yours put poison in his drink before the week is out."

Nick cast the taller boy a tired look.

"They were your friends too, Seb," he pointed out, but the other boy just shook his head.

"Not anymore," he said, "I've moved on, and I'm not going back there. Wesley and the others are as good as dead to me." He finished pouring Nick's drink and pushed the tankard back across the counter to the other boy. "But you're missing the point, Nick," he continued, "Have you completely lost your mind?"

"What are you on about?"

"Jeff; I'm talking about Blondie over there, your new friend. In what crazy state of mind did you decide that dragging him home to show to Wesley was even remotely a good idea?"

Nick bit his lip.

"He didn't even know that we were pickpockets," he admitted, "Not even after we demonstrated it to him. I had to explain it to him."

Sebastian's mouth dropped open.

"Nicholas Duval, you complete and utter idiot," he said finally, "I just, wow, what were you thinking?" He rubbed his temples with his fingers. "Why didn't you just leave the boy to get on with his life?"

"You're the one who pointed out that he was from the gutter," Nick shot back.

"I know," Sebastian replied, "But why did you have to step in? There are other ways to survive in the gutter!"

"I saved him from Wakefield!" Nick cried, even if that wasn't strictly true. "I saved him from the whorehouses, Seb! Don't tell me what I did was wrong!"

He quickly glanced around to see if the blonde boy was listening or not, but Jeff was still trying to become accustomed to the taste of the ale. He dropped his voice in caution anyway.

"Don't think that I didn't realise I had made a mistake the moment we set foot in the room and I introduced him to Wes," the shorter brunette continued, "I've never felt so awful in my life, and I tricked him into following me in the first place, right after I'd reassure him that I would never do that to him. So don't assume that I don't feel as guilty as hell for what I've done to him. If I could send him back to the blissfully ignorant state that he came here in, then I would, but I _can't_ Seb, you know that I _can't_."

Sebastian was silent for a moment, studying his friend carefully as he poured the other boy another drink, this time stronger gin instead, and gave it to him just to help calm him. Nick took the mug gratefully and drank it down in one swig.

Sebastian let out a small chuckle.

"I suppose we're lucky that alcohol doesn't seem to have too much effect on you, aren't we?"

Nick just glared at him.

"Alright," Seb said defensively, "It was just a joke. Unlike your situation with Blondie, that's not a joke."

"Damn right it's not," Nick snapped, starting to get rather tired of his friend's constant switching from light-heartedness to seriousness.

Sebastian ignored the other boy's sharp tone this time.

"I get it," he said finally, "I think I understand why you did it."

"No, you don't. You couldn't have put it any plainer that you had no idea what I was doing."

Sebastian sighed.

"So, I was wrong," he said, "I admit it, but I can see it now."

Nick rolled his eyes.

"So, what do you think you can see?" he asked.

His friend smiled slowly, and leaned in closer so that they could talk without being overheard.

"I think," he said softly, "That you took pity on young Jeffrey here, and something in your heart made you take him with you. And now you're feeling bad for corrupting him, but something inside of you won't let him go." He finished triumphantly, watching Nick's reaction closely.

"Is that all you could come up with?" the shorter boy said suddenly, snorting to himself. "It would make a nice story, it would. Go on, Seb, get it published. It'll get you out of here faster if it's popular, but it isn't true."

Sebastian folded his arms and regarded the other boy with a hard expression on his face.

"Don't try to hide anything from me," he warned, "I always see through it. And I always see you through you, Nick." He shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know why you're getting all defensive anyway; do you think that I'm going to judge you for anything?"

Nick gritted his teeth.

"I'm not being defensive," he said lowly, "What you said just isn't true."

"The look in your eyes told me otherwise. Why can't you admit it? Even just to me. What other reason would you have for not sending him back? Letting him go back onto the streets?"

"Wes," Nick said shortly, "That's my reason. I introduced him to Wes, and now he can't ever be free."

His friend wasn't satisfied.

"That may be half the reason now," he said, "But what about before you took him with you, what made you do that? Nick, look at me and tell me outright that there was not even a stirring of any sort of feeling when you first laid eyes on Jeff."

"Shut it, Seb!" Nick cried, louder than he'd been intending, for several men behind them looked around in surprise, and Jeff's head jerked up worriedly. "It's nothing," he addressed the blonde, waving a dismissive hand at him. "We'll be back in a moment."

"His concern for you is sweet," Sebastian remarked with a grin, rather enjoying the narrowed look that Nick gave him.

"He probably hates me," the shorter brunette said, "I've been nothing but awful to him." He took a deep breath. "I need another drink."

The taller brunette obligingly poured him another drink.

"This one's not on the house," he pointed out, but Nick just shrugged.

"I don't care," he said, "I just need it."

They were both silent for a few moments as Nick drank, before Sebastian spoke up again.

"He doesn't hate you, you know," he said.

Nick's head snapped up.

"How do you know?"

"If he hated you, he would have run away by now," Sebastian said matter-of-factly, "We're here talking, a few minutes ago, neither of us would have noticed if he'd gotten up and left. He trusts you, Nick, I'm not exactly sure why, because if I were him, I wouldn't, but he does, and that's why he's still here. Just try not to lose him."

"Thanks for the advice," Nick said sarcastically, "Maybe we'll be friends."

Sebastian smirked.

"I don't doubt it," he said. "Now, I think we've neglected our guest long enough."

He put the bottle of gin back underneath the bar and turned back to Jeff, who was staring deep into the depths of the bottom of his, now empty, tankard.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked, slipping into the seat beside the blonde, leaving Nick to sit down opposite them.

Jeff made a face.

"Not really," he said honestly, internally wondering whether that was the right thing to say and whether he'd just offended the two older boys.

Instead, Sebastian chuckled and Nick didn't say anything.

"Didn't think you were," Seb said, he gave Nick a sharp kick under the table. "Nick's being an awful host."

"I'm not his host," Nick shot back.

"Alright, wrong word. You're being an awful friend."

"I'm not his friend either."

Nick missed the disappointed look which crossed Jeff's face at that moment, but Sebastian caught it, storing the information away for later.

"Look, Blondie, if you ever get bored of Nick, then you can always come and work here with me," the taller brunette offered, "The customers like having new faces around."

"He's not going to work here with you," Nick cut in before Jeff could even open his mouth.

"Why not?" the blonde boy suddenly rounded on the other boy, something inside of him snapping at Nick's words. "I can speak for myself and I can make decisions for myself."

Nick's eyes flashed dangerously at the challenge to his authority.

"You don't know this life like I do," he said, "You'd do well to listen to my advice."

"Then I'll take your advice as advice, and not the law!"

At some point during their exchange, Sebastian had gotten up, and was currently arguing about something a few feet away with a girl in a rather patch-worked dress of mustard yellow and purple stockings. Of course, his disappearance was not noticed by the two arguing boys, who were very much intent on each other.

"I'm trying to protect you, Jeff!"

"No, you're not! You're trying to control me! What, are you jealous that Sebastian seems to actually like me and care about my welfare?"

"Jealous? No, of course not!"

"Well, you're certainly acting like it!"

"Stop yelling at me, everyone is staring at us!"

"Don't tell me to stop yelling! You're the one who started this!"

"No, I'm not!"

It was just then that the girl in the mustard yellow dress came hurrying over to them, setting her gaze intently on Jeff.

"Nicholas!" she cried rather loudly, trying to catch the boys' attention. It was only when she finally arrived at their table and cleared her throat loudly that they stopped shouting and looked up at her.

"Yes?" Nick asked, looking up at her tiredly, making it quite obvious that he wanted her to leave them alone. "Can we help you?"

"Don't give me that," the girl said, sounding completely unperturbed by the other boy's tone of voice. "Just introduce me to your friend." She turned to Jeff. "I don't think we know each other yet."

"Just leave him, please," Nick said, not granting her request.

"Don't be so rude, Nicholas!" She slapped the brunette's arm lightly, before trying to slip into the seat beside Jeff, although there was hardly enough room for her, and it seemed for a moment that she might accidentally slip and fall onto the floor. "So, what's your name?" she asked Jeff directly this time.

The blonde floundered for a moment, hoping desperately that if he stayed mute, she might leave him alone.

"Where's your manners, huh?" the girl continued, "Don't you know that it's rude to ignore a lady."

"You're not a lady," Nick commented dryly, making the men behind him chuckle, but the girl didn't acknowledge the statement.

"So, what's your name?"

Jeff gave up and decided it was better just to speak.

"Jeffrey Sterling," he said; here was another person who could have his full name, not his nickname.

The girl giggled when he spoke and cast a glance at Nick.

"He isn't half good looking, is he?" she said to the brunette, "Where do you find them? You'll have to let me know."

Jeff blushed in embarrassment at that.

"So, Jeffrey," the girl said, drawing his name out as she spoke, "I'm about to do one of my famous performances, and how about if you join me?"

Jeff's eyes widened in panic, and he threw a frightened look across the table at the other boy.

"You don't even know if he can sing," the brunette replied, and the blonde sighed in relief when he realised that the girl was only requesting a song.

"I don't need to," the girl said, "I can just tell when someone is a good singer."

Nick snorted in disbelief at that.

"So, what do you say?" she persisted, tugging a little on Jeff's arm.

The blonde boy opened his mouth to refuse but nothing seemed to come out. Would saying no be rude?

Out of the corner of his eye, Nick caught the blonde's worried face, and despite the other boy's vehement declarations that he could speak for himself, that didn't seem to be going to so well. The brunette was going to have to do something.

"He's not saying anything," he cut in, "He doesn't want to sing with you. Not now, and probably not ever. Now, go and get on with your performance. You wouldn't want to keep everyone else waiting, would you?"

He threw the girl as innocent a smile as he could muster, and she got up huffily, straightening her dress and stalking over to the other side of the tavern, but not before she'd thrown Jeff one last wink.

"So, are you going to bite my head off for speaking for you?" Nick asked the boy opposite him, who still looked a little terrified.

Slowly, Jeff shook his head.

"I…" he started, "I, just…thank you."

Nick smiled.

"No problem," he said, "She annoys me."

Jeff chuckled lightly at that.

"She scares me," he admitted.

"It's alright, I'll protect you," Nick joked, and the two boys laughed, forgetting that moments ago they'd been at each others throats. It felt nicer to be on good terms and to laugh instead.

Suddenly, Sebastian appeared beside them again, looking thoroughly apologetic.

"I'm so sorry," he cried, "She just sort of ran off! I should have just herded her onto that stupid piece of wood she calls a stage and been done with it!"

Nick chuckled.

"It's alright," he said, "She was just giving Jeff here a bit of the old eye."

Sebastian turned to the blonde boy and gave him a sympathetic look.

"If it makes you feel any better," he said, "She does that to everyone." He paused and thought about what he'd said. "Actually, no, that's not going to make you feel better."

Jeff frowned.

"I'd like to know what's going on," he said, "I mean, who even is she? She seemed to know Nick."

Sebastian grinned.

"You've just made the acquaintance of Miss Rachel Berry," he said mockingly, "Thinks that by doing a regular bit of entertainment here, she'll earn herself a place on the stage of one of the theatres in Drury Lane. She's even given herself a stage name of 'The Golden Star'; I think she's half-delusional sometimes because this is a pub, and everyone knows exactly who she is and where she's come from. She won't get anywhere near Drury Lane, she's a gutter rat like the rest of us."

Over in the corner, Miss Berry was currently belting out an old sea shanty at the top of her lungs; not exactly the sort of material that Drury Lane would be looking for.

"At least she's not too bad at singing," Jeff said, "I mean, it would be much worse if she couldn't sing on top of being so demanding."

Nick chuckled.

"Well done, Jeff," he said, "You've found a positive side to her character."

"Is she really all that bad?" the blonde asked, "Apart from being rather forward?"

"The other men seem to like her," Sebastian said, "But then again, most of them don't have to deal with her when she realises that her little stage area hasn't been cleared for her or someone says no to something that she wants."

"Listen, we'd better be going," Nick said suddenly, pushing back his chair and rising to place his tankard back on the bar. He dug into his pocket for a few small coins, before placing them in Sebastian's waiting palm.

"Are you sure that you don't want to wait around a little longer?" Sebastian asked, "Hunter should be along later; he's just finishing up on a job."

Nick shook his head.

"I'm afraid that we have to be getting back," he said, "Otherwise Wes'll send someone to find us and drag us home by our ears. Come on, Jeff." He motioned for the blonde boy to follow him. "Tell Hunter that I'm sorry I missed him though."

Sebastian nodded.

"I will," he said, "See you soon, and nice to meet you, Jeff."

"Nice to meet you too," Jeff replied, before turning and following Nick out of the tavern.

"Hurry up, will you?" the brunette called behind him as they made their way up the steps to the street. "We haven't got all night."

"I'm coming," Jeff said, speeding up a little. "What were you and Sebastian talking about at the bar?" he asked, once he'd reached the other boy's side.

"Nothing," Nick replied shortly, "And I thought I told you not to ask questions that weren't relevant."

"How is it not relevant? You left me alone at a table in a pub while you talked with your friend at the bar, and you both kept glancing over at me as though to check that not only had I not run away, but I also wasn't listening."

Nick cursed inwardly at the fact that the blonde had noticed that.

"So," Jeff continued, "What were you talking about? If it was me, I have a right to know."

"No, you don't."

"So, it was about me?"

"That's not what I said."

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because it's none of your damn business, Jeff!" Nick suddenly cried, "Stop pushing me and asking these stupid questions!" He clutched his head with his hands. "I wish I could say that I wish I'd never agreed to take you home with me, that I should have left you alone in that alleyway; left you to go to the whores instead!"

Jeff stood facing him, his face paling as Nick spoke.

"But do you know what?" the brunette carried on, "I can't wish that, I just can't, Jeff! I just…maybe if you just voluntarily run away then I won't feel so bad!"

He turned sharply on his heel and started to walk away as fast as he could, shaking his head as though to clear it.

Jeff stood frozen for a moment, before he realised that the other boy was starting to disappear into the darkness, and the horror and the anger that he might be left alone arose within him.

"Nick!" he yelled, "What the hell was that all about?"

* * *

**A/N: Ooo, so Nick and Jeff will be having a little talk next chapter, and we'll get an insight into Jeff's training to be a pickpocket :)**

**Thank you for reading, and please leave a review to tell me what you thought or to ask a question about the history :)**

**Historical Points:**

**1. Drury Lane is a famous street in the West End of London near Covent Garden, it is home to several large theatres, including the Theatre Royal, and so only if Rachel became especially lucky she would not be likely to get anywhere near the stage there, unless you count getting a cheap floor ticket, though the conditions there probably would not suit her at all!**


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